


Drunken Disorderly

by foolish_mortal



Category: The Fugitive (1993)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Movie, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 16:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolish_mortal/pseuds/foolish_mortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspector Gerard is working in the Chicago police department late at night when they bring in a medical student for drunken disorderly. Pre-film.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunken Disorderly

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Livejournal's Sunday Snuggles. No spoilers for film. This fic is also how I imagine the dynamic with a young Kimble and Nichols and what contributed to their roles in the film.

Inspector Sam Gerard was down at the station with Sergeant Davis reviewing files for a case at two in the morning when some officers brought in a young guy with a shock of dark hair and a number of bruises on his face and arms. His hands were cuffed behind his back, and his clothes were dishevelled; his skinny tie was loose and crooked, and his white dress shirt was wrinkled and missing some buttons. He stumbled a little as they marched him down the hall, and Gerard realised he was drunk.

The officers sat him in a chair at the processing desk, and the guy nodded to the officers. "Thanks, guys. Hey, Bob—take care of that knee, alright?"

"Thanks," the officer replied and clapped him on the shoulder. "You stay out of trouble."

The guy smirked. "Always."

The officers laughed and waved to Davis and Gerard on their way out. The guy put his head back and closed his eyes. "Ugh," he mumbled and shook his head like a dog. Gerard figured he would either pass out or throw up, so he got up to nudge a trash can closer to the guy's chair and then went back to work.

Davis huffed as Gerard sat back down. "Jesus Christ, that guy."

Gerard turned to look at him again. He seemed kind of pathetic, actually. "Who is he?"

Davis glared at the guy, who gave him a look back. "Name's Richard Kimble. Medical student at the University of Chicago. He's a regular. Today he started a fight down at the Main Street pub."

"Yeah, I can see," Gerard said. There was an impressive bruise forming around Kimble's cheek and eye socket.

Davis snorted. "That ain't nothing. You should have seen the other guy." Kimble must have heard him, because he ducked his head to hide a grin. Davis was on him right away. "What, you think that's funny, Kimble?"

"I think it's funny," Gerard volunteered.

Kimble snorted, and his eyes rose to meet Gerard's. Kimble's eyes were dark and intelligent, even if they were slightly unfocused. He was handsome even with the bruises. Gerard looked away.

"Don't encourage him," Davis advised. "He's a troublemaker. Him and Charlie Nichols."

"Chuck'll post my bail," Kimble said and waved a hand. "He's passed out somewhere right now, but he'll be here when he wakes up."

"When he wakes up, huh?" Davis rolled his eyes at Gerard. "Don't you wish you had friends like that?"

All of Gerard's friends were colleagues who didn't really count, and he'd never had too many friends in the precincts. He didn't have time for chit chat or drinks when there were cases on the table and criminals loose on the streets. He knew he was good at his job. One of the department's best U.S. marshals called Gerard into his office once and said, "You know, Gerard, I can see you sitting in this chair in ten years," and Gerard had been working ever since then to make that true. He knew his file said he was an exemplary officer with a promising future ahead of him, but he was a loner that didn't get along well with others. They called him a workaholic.

So he looked at the easy way Kimble had talked to the officers and sat in his chair like he owned the place, and Gerard envied him a little. "Maybe," he murmured.

Just like Kimble had said, Charlie Nichols came in at a quarter past four to post his bail. Nichols had a pursed worried mouth and premature wrinkles around his eyes, and he looked years older beside Kimble.

"Hiya, Chuck," Kimble said and grinned. "Thanks for the save."

"Why did you have to fight with that man, Richard?" Nichols asked. He sounded tired.

Kimble shrugged. "He was insulting the Cubs. You're no fun when you sober up, you know that?" He turned around to offer Davis a hand. Davis didn't take it. "Thanks for having me over again. Always a pleasure." Kimble's eyes dropped to Gerard's jacket. "And you too, Officer Gerard. Are you new?"

"Inspector Samuel Gerard is from the U.S. Marshals Office working with us on a case here," Davis said. "Beat it, Kimble."

But Kimble just leaned in closer. "Samuel," he said and tilted his head. "That's a nice name."

"I'm attached to it," Gerard replied, and Kimble laughed. It made him look like a kid, the kind of boyish 'Aw, shucks' look that made you want to like him, and Gerard suspected that Kimble got away with anything he wanted.

From the sour look on Nichols's face, he knew it and was probably the guy that caught the flak for Kimble's antics. "Richard, are you done flirting?"

"Yup," Kimble said and gave Gerard a wink before turning around to sling an arm around Nichols's shoulders. "Come on, Chuck. Let's go."

Nichols sighed a very put-upon sigh and said, "Yes, alright."

Kimble gave them a little salute as he was leaving. Davis made a disgusted sound. "Guy thinks he's Han fucking Solo. Mark my words, we'll be seeing this guy again."

Gerard eyed Kimble's receding back. "Yeah," he murmured. "Maybe I will."


End file.
